


Roll Of The Dice

by BetterAPlumThanDumb



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexual Sam Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Episode: s03e11 Mystery Spot, F/M, Fix-It, Gabriel is Gabriel, Gabriel is So Done (Supernatural), Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I MIGHT do Sam/Gabriel I might not I'm keeping my options open, In this house we say fuck the ending, Jack being Jack, Lucifer is a Little Shit, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Finale, Post-Season/Series 15, Protective Dean Winchester, Quote: Family Don't End With Blood (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Song: Heat of the Moment (Asia), Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travelling Sam Winchester, You get a redemption arc everyone gets a redemption arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27982404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetterAPlumThanDumb/pseuds/BetterAPlumThanDumb
Summary: Sam goes to sleep, and he wakes up and all of a sudden it is a Tuesday again and he is back in his early 20's and Dean is alive next to him while Gabriel is being a taunting asshole, and Sam knows he has been given an opportunity that he absolutely cannot blow.
Relationships: Castiel & Gabriel (Supernatural), Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Gabriel & Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 49
Kudos: 354





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AKA me taking that idea that everyone on tumblr is joking about and R O L L I N G with it.  
> So here's my attempt to fix Supernatural.

Sam Winchester never thought he would be grateful to hear Heat of the Moment blaring the moment he woke up.

His eyes flew open with a startled gasp, brain immediately registering the fact that the uncomfortable surface he was lying on was _not_ his bed back at the bunker. His ears throbbed from the loud music assaulting them first thing in the morning, and as he turned to glare at the offending object that it originated from his eyes landed on the figure sat a few feet away from him and all he could think was, “Oh.”

_Oh._

“Rise and shine, Sammy!” His very-much-alive (not to mention ten years younger) brother called brightly, foot propped up as he tied his laces, easy grin on his face in a way that was so familiar even now that it made Sam’s heart ache. His eyes were expectant as he stared at his younger brother, and still all Sam could think was, _Oh._

This…This wasn’t right. Dean was dead and gone and had been for several months now. He had been around fourty when he had died, and yet the man sat opposite Sam was clearly no older than twenty-nine, if Sam remembered right. And this motel room, and the music, and the accursed time loop…that had ended well over a decade ago. The Trickster – Gabriel – was long dead, as well. Factually dead, this time, no lies involved. Michael had made sure of that much.

_So_ , he thought as he looked down at himself, baffled, _what’s going on?_

But before he let himself ponder any of that properly, he did what he was really dying to do, and he flung himself at his older brother in a tight, frantic embrace. Dean cursed loudly and nearly fell backwards, one hand flying back to maintain balance while the other loosely hugged Sam back, confusion practically radiating off the older man as he awkwardly patted his back. But Sam didn’t care. He didn’t care that he was a thirty something (or, well, he supposed he was twenty-five again now) year old man clinging to his big brother like he was a toddler again, scared of the monsters under his bed. He just…

He had really missed his brother.

He had come to terms, somewhat, with his death. It was hardly the first time he had lost Dean, of course, but this was the first time he had forced himself to accept that it was permanent, that he wasn’t coming back. And he had tried to be okay with that, okay with the thought of Dean finally being at peace and reunited with his loved ones up in Heaven, but…it didn’t change the fact Sam was left behind on Earth, all alone. Didn’t change the fact that everyone Sam loved – Dean, Jack, probably Cas, Charlie, Bobby, everyone else – were all having a party upstairs while Sam was locked in the basement, so to speak. He knew that they would all want him to live on, to have the normal life that he had craved for so long, but by this point that was a little easier said than done. He hadn’t done the whole ‘normal’ thing since he was twenty-two, for the most part. But he had been trying, anyway. For them.

At least until he had woken up here, anyway.

He didn’t bother trying to explain to Dean right now, waving off his concerns with a vague comment about nightmares. Explaining to Dean would likely mean explaining everything that would happen in the coming decade or so, and he didn’t even know how long that one would take. At this point in their lives, demons were still a relative rarity, certainly not ones they ever co-operated with, they did not know angels existed, neither of them had ever been to hell…and so much more. He didn’t think Dean would believe about half of what Sam told him – he would probably be firmly shut down as soon as he got to the emotionally ambiguous blue eyed part-time angel, full-time best friend of the Winchesters in the form of Cas, and that was without even _mentioning_ the sexual tension between the two of them that had existed for…well, as long as Sam could remember, if he was honest.

So needless to say, yes, he elected not to mention it to Dean until he felt more sure about the situation. But he needed to seek out the truth somehow.

And so that was how he found himself on the sidewalk that morning, completely ignorant of the bewildered stares of strangers around him, yelling the Trickster’s name at the top of his lungs.

Reasonably, he knows he doesn’t need to yell. Gabriel will be watching him; Gabriel was _always_ watching him in the time loop, a fact that the archangel himself had confirmed later on, when they had become tentative allies and even more tentative friends. He also knows that he could probably be yelling the Trickster’s true angelic name to get his attention, but that could have the opposite effect. He knew that would have a decent chance of sending Gabriel running for the hills, and Sam really needed him to stick around right now.

He’s just opened his mouth to below his name one more time to the unresponsive sky when the oh so familiar voice comes from behind him.

“ _Geez,_ big guy, wanna scream a little louder? I think some folks up in Alaska might not have heard ya.”

He knows he will see it, but it is still somewhat jarring to whirl around on the spot and come face to face with Gabriel once again. He looks the same as he ever did, golden hair in short messy waves, greenish eyes gleaming with mischief and the barest hint of ‘I-know-more-than-you-ever-will’, eyebrow quirked lightly and small smirk playing about his lips. His arms were folded leisurely, fingers drumming on his forearm in a pattern that Sam recognised as the opening notes to Heat of the Moment. Sam still despised that song, make no mistake. In fact after the whole mystery spot chaos the first time around, he had thrown Dean’s copy of the tape out the window of the moving impala whilst on the freeway, taking great satisfaction in watching it get crushed beneath the wheels of a semi. And Gabriel, sly, vindictive bastard that he was at this point, probably knew fine well how Sam felt about the song. Only the knowledge of the future, and the fact that Gabriel would help them out, become their friend and ultimately go on to die for them, stopped him from decking the angel for that one.

He didn’t have time to beat around the bush right now, though.

“I know what you are.”

He declares it boldly, and Gabriel’s brow raises marginally. If he has any suspicion whatsoever about what Sam is about to say, he doesn’t indicate it. He probably doesn’t, Sam muses to himself. At this point in the timeline, he isn’t even supposed to know that angels exist in the first place, never mind the fact that the Trickster himself was one.

“Oh?” He replies, voice a casual, careless drawl, “I thought we’d already established this one, pal. You know I’m a trickster, I know I’m a trickster, your destined-to-die brother knows I’m a trickster…”

“No you’re not,” Sam interrupts, ignoring the instinctive bristling inside at the comment about Dean, “You’re an angel.”

Gabriel laughs, and his face still conveys absolutely no shock or uncertainty at the direction of this conversation. He’s always been one hell of a liar.

“Thanks, Sammy, but flattery won’t get ya anywhere, and it sure as heck won’t save your-“

“It’s not flattery,” Sam interjects once more, “It’s fact. You…are an angel. An archangel, to be precise. The archangel Gabriel.”

Now, his face _does_ change. He takes on a somewhat guarded expression as he takes a minute step back, staring up at Sam with a newfound wariness and suspicion. His eyes narrow slightly for a moment, tongue flitting across his lips nervously, before he schooled his face into an uncaring one once more and spoke again.

“Angels aren’t real, kid,” He said flatly, posture now considerably more tense. Sam didn’t relent.

“Yeah, they are. There’s angels, and there’s archangels, and you’re one of them. You, Michael, Raphael and…” His voice pauses for a second before finishing, slightly quieter, “…and Lucifer.”

Gabriel is still staring him down now, his expression closed and utterly unreadable. He looks Sam up and down for a moment, before a slight scowl crosses his face and before Sam can stop him or eve protest, he’s raised his arm and snapped his fingers loudly.

And faster than he can blink, Sam finds himself in an unfamiliar motel room, perched on the edge of a bed while Gabriel stands in front of him.

“Okay,” The angel concedes irritably, “I think you and I gotta have a conversation, kiddo.”

Sam sits up straighter.

“Yeah, actually, we do. There’s a lot more going on than you know right now, Gabe.”

The familiar nickname slips out without him fully registering it, before his mind can catch up with his mouth. The angel in front of him blinks in surprise at the familiarity of his tone, and Sam inwardly curses himself for his loose tongue. He was so accustomed to it in the future, it had started to come as naturally as referring to Castiel as Cas. He had forgotten himself for a moment, forgotten that they were currently a decade in the past and even the all-powerful archangel in front of him would have no idea of the future just yet.

Despite the somewhat tense atmosphere, Gabriel can’t seem to resist a slight grin.

“Nicknames already, eh Sammy? Aren’t we getting intimate,” He teases, and Sam rolls his eyes, well used to his taunts and flirts after so long knowing him.

“Sorry, it’s…habit,” He justifies, waving a hand dismissively. Gabriel’s brows furrow and his head tilts slightly in confusion, and Sam is struck by the strongest feeling of déjà vu because right now he looks exactly as he did in that warehouse all those years ago, the first time he and Dean had uncovered his identity – equal parts keenly intrigued, puzzled and furiously rebellious. 

“Meaning?” He enquires, voice marginally sharper, and Sam sighs, gesturing to the identical bed next to him.

“You might wanna take a seat, this…this could take a while.”

And Sam opens his mouth, braces himself, and launches into the longest explanation of his life.

To his credit, Gabriel does not interrupt once in the whole hour Sam is speaking. In fact he thinks it’s the longest he has seen Gabriel be silent, aside from the aftermath of his rescue from Asmodeus. Even when he is explaining the angel’s first (fake) death, and later capture and torture, Gabriel hardly reacts, gaze hard and thoughtful and eyes growing more and more distant as the story went on.

And finally, he reaches the end. He wraps it all up in the messy bow that is his life now – Jack is God, Cas is gone, Dean is dead, and Sam is here, ten or so years in the past, surrounded by people who should rightfully be dead as well right now.

“…Well,” Gabriel finally says when Sam has fell silent for longer than a minute, “That is quite the bombshell to drop on a fella, Samsquach.”

His eyes do seem somewhat overwhelmed now, and he jumps to his feet and begins pacing back and forward, deep in thought. It’s such a human thing to do that Sam almost laughs. He’d grown used to Cas gradually becoming more like a human as he spent time with them, but Gabriel…he had truly acclimatised with humanity. He could be mistaken for one of them so easily, in the way his brow furrowed slightly and the way he stubbed his toe off the desk and cursed absently, rubbing it, and even in the way he reached into his pocket and pulled out a lollipop, sticking it in his mouth thoughtfully. Sam didn’t dare interrupt this process, until Gabriel finally looked back at him.

“Well, you aren’t lying,” He says at last, “I can see it – your soul is older than it should be.”

His nose wrinkles slightly.

“WAY older, actually,” He observes, looking at Sam with a slight frown. Sam shrugged somewhat self-consciously.

“I told you, I done time in hell. Time is all wacky down there, so the age of my soul, it’s…well, it’s a little hard to place, these days.”

Gabriel hums his acknowledgement.

“So, you’ve stopped about ten different apocalypses in as many years. I’m dead now, your brother is also dead, _my_ brothers are also all dead, and so is my father – You know, God himself - who has been replaced by my nephilm nephew; A nephew who was raised by my baby brother, who was a little in love with your brother,” He summarises, blinking slowly.

“That’s breaking it down to the very, very basics, but…yeah, essentially.”

“And yet now you’re here, claiming you have no idea how this has come about, but armed with enough knowledge to stop literally all of this from even occurring in the first place?”

“Well, maybe not _all_ of it, but pretty much, yeah.”

Gabriel drops himself down onto the bed next to Sam, shaking his head slowly, before he manages to sum the whole shitshow of a situation up in three simple words that Sam couldn’t agree more with.

“Well, fuck me.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So…what now?”

Sam isn’t surprised at Gabriel’s immediate impatient desire to take action. It’s very on brand for the angel. Unfortunately, he didn’t exactly have an answer for him.

“I don’t know,” He admitted reluctantly, “I don’t even know how I was sent here, never mind _why.”_

It took a moment of his quiet thought to realise that Gabriel was staring very intently at him, eyes narrowed just slightly. His gaze held an edge of…something. Something that made Sam feel slightly uneasy as he remembered that he was in fact in the presence of one of God’s four most powerful creations.

“Something the matter?” He asked somewhat uncomfortably. Gabriel blinked as if breaking himself out of a stupor, shaking his head slightly to clear his mind. The archangel shrugged, hands burying themselves into his pockets. His eyes flickered aimlessly around the room they were in – a very much generic motel room, not at all unlike the ones Sam had frequented his entire life. The blue wallpaper was peeling in the corners, the tv looked at least a century year old, if not more, and Sam was willing to bet that the off-cream carpet was so old that there was a significant chance Gabriel was not the first supernatural creature to walk across it.

“Not exactly,” Gabriel replied, voice more than a little cryptic. Sam sighed, pre-emptively sensing a headache forming at the base of his skull. The sort of headache that only dealing with annoyingly vague supernatural beings could bring on – so, the sort of headache Sam was unfortunately all too used to having.

“Okay…what does that mean?” 

Gabriel shook his head slowly again, and now Sam could clearly read the look he shot him. It was clouded with suspicion, and maybe the tiniest bit of pity that he was trying not to let show.

“Just…well. Sammy. We’ve already established that you would do anything for your big bro. I mean-“ He gestured around them at the general vicinity, “That’s kinda exactly what I’ve been trying to get drilled into that thick skull of yours, y’know?”

He did know. It might have been over a decade, but he did still remember the whole point behind Gabriel’s trapping him in a time loop for around a year. Pissed off as he may have been with the Trickster in the aftermath, he didn’t forget the lesson he had been trying to teach, even if he had elected to ignore it.

Dean was his weakness. And Sam was Dean’s. The two of them did not know when to cut their losses and quit, didn’t know when to let go. They would tear up heaven and hell themselves for each other a hundred times over, consequences be damned. Their sense of loyalty to one another was dangerous – and all too often, deadly.

Or at least, it had been. Sam had tried to overcome this in more recent years, had tried to be less selfish and accept that he would likely have to come to terms with the possibility (or probability, considering their line of work) of a life without his brother by his side.

A part of him had wondered whether it would ever really be a problem. After all, if something was really enough to take out Dean for good, odds are it would do in Sam as well. But that wasn’t how it had played out. In the end Sam had lived, and Dean had not. But dwelling on this did help Sam realise exactly what Gabriel was implying.

“You think I done this on purpose,” He deduced, “To save my brother.”

Gabriel shrugged once more and slid effortlessly to his feet, hands still nonchalantly crammed in his pockets.

“Well…Yeah. I do. You gotta admit, you do have a track record there, Sam-a-lam.”

The years had mellowed Sam enough that he was willing to accept this fact, nodding grudgingly to indicate this.

“That’s true,” He agreed easily, “I do. Or, I did. But Gabriel, you have to realise, I…I’m coming from like twelve years in the future, man. Believe it or not, I do eventually learn the lesson you’re trying to teach me. That someday, I have to accept the truth and face the world without Dean. And I was. I was facing it, and I was getting on with life, because…”

Here, he faltered slightly, swallowing briefly.

“Because…Dean deserves to be happy. And he deserves to be at peace. And I know that Jack will have brought Cas back from the Empty, because there’s no way he would leave him there, so…He deserves a break, man. They both do. A chance to just relax up in Heaven with our family, for once.”

A chance to be together, his mind added. But he didn’t say this out loud. Just like how Dean had never admitted how he felt for Cas out loud either. But then, he didn’t really need to. Sam knew his brother well enough to just be able to tell. And even if he didn’t, well…he didn’t actually really _need_ to. The two of them were positively _transparent_ sometimes, and Sam had to wonder if they really thought nobody noticed the longing gazes or intense periods of eye contact (or eye-sex, as Charlie had once called it under her breath). Cas and Dean would do anything for each other, no questions asked. Sam knew that without a doubt. Cas had always been slightly fonder of Dean than himself, after all. Or, not even more fond exactly, just fond in a very different way. Sam didn’t doubt that Castiel loved him like a brother, a feeling that Sam readily returned and had for many years.

But he certainly didn’t want to jump Sam’s bones the way he did Dean’s.

Dean was slightly more difficult, and only a lifetime of reading his brother’s emotions allowed him to fully translate his big brother’s thought process. After all, almost three decades with John Winchester as their father had certainly left its mark. Their dad wasn’t actively hateful to those in same sex relationships, but he had certainly made the occasional off-hand remark that had likely stuck with Dean, the one who had always strove to be the pinnacle of manliness, seducing ladies left right and centre.

Not that Sam could judge, really. They’d stuck with him, too, until he had escaped to college and had several years of freedom within which he could tentatively experiment – which he had, until he had met Jess and settled down. He had still never concretely decided on his sexuality; he had enjoyed the brief encounters he had with other guys in college, but he had never felt strong enough for one yet that he could exactly say he liked them equally with women. Still, the thought had been there since college and was still present in the back of his mind, always. He wouldn’t be labelling himself in a rush, and he knew Dean would be the same.

But Dean loved Castiel. There was no way to deny that. If he hadn’t been one hundred percent sold before, then Castiel’s confession before vanishing had certainly sold him. Dean was more shaken up than Sam had seen him in years, his face pale and gaunt and eyes holding a look that Sam would only later be able to label as heartbroken. His loss had broken his brother for a time, and privately Sam wondered if that was part of the reason he had been so ready to accept death when it had come knocking on his door.

He shook his head to derail this line of thought – it wouldn’t do any good anyways, not right now.

Gabriel was openly staring at him again, the pity further present on his face. He didn’t really have any reason to believe Sam – although he was usually very, very good at spotting a lie so perhaps he could simply tell that Sam wasn’t telling one right now. Sam didn’t give him a chance to speak, clearing his throat. Sympathy wouldn’t do anything for him.

“First things first, I gotta wonder if I’m the only one who came back,” He pondered, frowning slightly, “I mean, whoever sent me back without even asking my permission…they must have had a reason, and they must have been pretty powerful.”

He whirred round to look at Gabriel again.

“No way you can tell who? No mark or anything left on me?” He asked, trying not to get too hopeful, a venture that paid off when Gabriel slowly shook his head.

“’Fraid not, Sammy. This sort of thing, it’s…complicated. In theory, yeah, they shouldn’t have been able to send you back without you knowing or at least leaving some sign of who they are, but…” He wrinkled his nose, “If they were really powerful – say, on level with an archangel or even higher – then it might be possible.”

“Well, all the archangels are dead, so it can’t be any of you,” Sam mused aloud without even thinking, catching the slight scowl that crossed Gabriel’s face at the reminder.

“And our new God, this nephew of mine…you don’t think he would do this?” Gabriel enquired. Sam shook his head immediately.

“No, Jack wouldn’t. He’s family. There’s no reason, for one. And besides, he swore a non-interference policy when he became God, and I think sending me a decade into my own past is probably breaking that big time. This isn’t him.”

Gabriel sighed, but didn’t look too surprised.

“Should have known things couldn’t be that easy,” He said dryly, folding his arms and resuming his distracted drumming against his forearm, “So what have you told your brother, anyhow?”

Sam stopped, looking at Gabriel in mild surprise.

“Dean? I haven’t told him anything,” He said. Gabriel looked at him somewhat dubiously.

“Right,” He said, voice practically dripping scepticism, and Sam couldn’t help the scowl that formed on his face.

“I _haven’t._ It’s not like it’s an easy thing to explain. I mean, it’s his life, too. And he wouldn’t believe at least half of it. I mean Gabe, come on,” He stood up, agitated, “At least you know what I’m talking about, you know that God and Angels and the apocalypse and all that is real. Dean doesn’t know _any_ of that yet. I…I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

He ran a hand through his hair, distressed. Gabriel stared at him for a moment, and then a moment longer. He kept staring for so long, in fact, that it made the back of Sam’s neck heat up slightly from the intensity of it, and the Winchester cleared his throat pointedly.

“What?” He finally asked, shifting somewhat self consciously. Gabriel finally blinked – something Sam didn’t even realise the angel hadn’t done that entire time – and tore his gaze away, shaking his head slowly.

“Nothing, it’s just…you really have changed, kiddo.”

Sam blinked, taken aback, and Gabriel was quick to elaborate.

“Hey, it’s not a bad thing, just…you know, time being, you would have rushed off to tell Dean everything to try and keep him alive.”

“I still want to keep him alive,” Sam admitted, “But only because this time I know I actually can. Last time was just fuelled by sheer desperation to not lose my brother.”

“And this time isn’t?”

Sam shook his head, firm.

“No. I’ve had my time with Dean, maybe not as much as I’d like, but enough that I could accept it. But that was before I came here. Now I’m here, with so much still to happen, and I just…I would be an idiot to not try and fix all the mistakes I know we’ll make.”

He began pacing, listing them aloud absently.

“We done wrong by a lot of people. Too many people paid to keep us alive, and it just wasn’t worth it. Bobby, Charlie, Jo, Ellen, Kevin, Adam; hell, even Crowley. Cas paid for it about a thousand times over, I don’t think we could ever repay him for that one. And of course, you,” He added as an afterthought, “If I…If I can keep everyone alive…If I can stop them from suffering…” He drew himself up and stared at Gabriel firmly dead in the eye.

“Then Gabe, I’m going to do it.”

His firm – albeit somewhat dramatic – words were somewhat undercut by the sudden rumbling of his stomach. Despite himself, Gabriel cracked a grin.

“Hungry, are we, Sammy?”

Sam laughed somewhat sheepishly. It was well after midday now, and it wasn’t as if he had dropped by the diner to have breakfast that morning; not only had he been in such a rush to see Gabriel, but he also was not feeling too keen on seeing that place again, considering how many countless mornings had been spent there in an endlessly monotonous cycle.

“I guess,” He acknowledged, smile slightly awkward and yet, surprising himself, sincere. Maybe because, for the first time in so long, he felt the slightest spark of hope deep down in his gut once again. Hope for the world, hope for change, for his family to pull through this less scathed than they had originally.

Gabe hummed, looking Sam up and down absently, before clapping his hands together in a business-like manner.

“Well! Seems as good a time as any to break for lunch, anyway. I don’t know about you, but I could sure go some pancakes right about now,” He said brightly. Sam shot him a slightly curious look, considering Gabriel no longer had to maintain a façade as a Trickster.

“I thought angels didn’t eat.”

It wasn’t really phrased as a question, but it was one anyway, and Gabriel indulged him with an answer.

“We don’t _need_ to eat,” Gabriel corrected, “Doesn’t mean we can’t, and personally, I do so love treating myself from time to time.”

“Cas always said he didn’t eat because human food just tasted like matter to him or…something,” Sam noted, and Gabriel shrugged luxuriously, eyes careless.

“Little Castiel is just an angel, and not one who spends a whole lot of time down on Earth. Stands to reason he wouldn’t be as adjusted to eating as someone like me. Which, by the way,” He added as an afterthought, “Ix-nay on the abriel-gay when we’re in public. Walls have ears; and by that, I mean, angels do, and are notorious snoops. I’ve spent this long evading them, I’m not planning on going back heaven-bound anytime soon.”

Sam snorted. “Don’t I know it.”

He dusted his jacket off, ran a hand through his admittedly unruly hair, and looked at Gabriel expectantly.

“So, lunch?” He prompted. Gabriel broke into a grin, brushing his hands together theatrically.

“Great, I happen to know this _lovely_ little diner, think they have a special on pig’n’poke today, you’ll love it!”

He snickered to himself at the less than amused expression on Sam’s face, clapping the taller man on the back in a surprisingly friendly action.

“Nah, I’m just messing with ya, I’m sure I can find a different trashy diner,” He reassured, winking at Sam cheerfully and, before Sam could even comment on this plan, his hand was raised and his fingers snapped, teleporting them with no further preamble.

__

Sam had come to expect a lot of things when in the company of Gabriel, whether he was acting as his archangel self or his trickster self. Frankly, he did not change much in either form.

He was a trouble magnet, who, if he could not _find_ chaos, would _create_ it. He was composed of 40% sarcasm, 40% sass, 10% attitude and 10% miscellaneous other personality traits that would occasionally rear their heads when the situation called for it. Sincerity was simply not a word in his vocabulary, and neither were the words ‘emotional vulnerability’. Talking about his family was generally a no-no. Asking for his assistance for something he did not want to do was _always_ a no-no. But, negative traits aside, he had a surprisingly brave, helpful streak, a wicked sense of humour and easiness to talk to and was, all in all, one of the more pleasant angels that Sam had ever met – although frankly that wasn’t saying much, considering his competition.

So yes, Sam knew to always expect the unexpected when in the company of Gabriel.

He still didn’t quite expect to pass out into his plate of toast mid-sentence, however.

He was dreaming, he knew he was. He had been answering some of Gabriel’s more prying conversations about the apocalypse and about Chuck, when he had quite literally felt himself keel forward, head thudding and eyes slipping shut as he fell into a slumber.

He also wasn’t alone in his dream; he could tell that much. He had shared dreams with angels and demons often enough in his life to be able to tell when someone was invading his mind. For a wild, fearful moment, he half expected to see Lucifer prowling around the corners of his mind, even though he knew fine well that _that_ issue in particular wouldn’t rear its ugly head for many months yet. But no, it wasn’t the caged archangel that was lurking in his mind.

It was, however, his son.

Sam felt a wave of shock wash over him as the blanketing blackness of his dream slowly shifted to reveal the form, jaw dropping despite himself.

“Jack?!”

The young man’s face lit up, bringing a warmth into Sam’s chest as his smile always did. Jack was good for things like that; his youthful innocence about the world had always been good at keeping Sam’s hope intact, and Sam hadn’t realised just how much he had missed the kid until right now.

“Sam!” He cried brightly, darting forward without hesitation and throwing his arms around the older man, “I found you!”

Sam allowed himself to hold the kid that he had partially come to view as his own, squeezing him tightly and exhaling slowly, tension leaving him slowly like water leaking out of a dam. Hugs with Jack hadn’t been a particularly uncommon occurrence, and he was relieved to experience it again.

Jack was a very difficult kid to not love, after all, with his sweet nature and undying curiosity and naivety about everything and everyone. And he was a pretty affection-happy kid as well, it had not taken them long to realise. It was clear, in the way his eyes would light up without fail any time Dean would ruffle his hair or clap him on the shoulder, or when Cas would put a fatherly arm around him, or even when Sam himself would fondly nudge their little Nephilim as a good morning greeting. Jack _thrived_ under positive attention and affection, and the three of them had (most of the time) been happy to provide this for him. And, rather quickly, he had become just as touchy with them, often grabbing their arms and tugging their sleeves in a very toddler-like manner to attract their attention or leaning against whoever was in the back of the impala with him and, eventually, hugging them happily after any successful hunts. Sam was hardly anti-hug; he embraced those close to him plenty. But Dean wasn’t always the most touchy feely of people, and nor was Cas at the best of times, so fairly quickly Sam could say with reasonable certainty that he had probably hugged Jack more than the other two combined.

Still, he finally made himself release the younger man, looking down at him somewhat incredulously.

“Jack…what are you doing here?” He demanded, “I’m in the past, you shouldn’t even be able to-“

Jack waved his hand somewhat dismissively, shooting a wry grin at Sam that practically _screamed_ teenager.

“New God, remember?” He reminded, “I’m able to do a lot of things.”

“Yeah, but you said you weren’t interfering, and…anyway, I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Ah,” At this, Jack’s face dimmed once more, like the sun disappearing behind a particularly grey cloud. He shifted, brows furrowing and small frown turning the corner of his lips downward, fidgeting with his jacket sleeve in a way that Sam knew he only done when he was nervous. It was oddly heartening to see that, newfound Godly status or not, some things would never change. His tongue wet his lips somewhat anxiously, before he seemed to find the will to meet Sam’s eyes again.

“I did say that,” He acknowledged, “And I meant it for everyone, including all of you. But…”

His cheeks flushed slightly, ducking his head in embarrassment as he mumbled, “But it was a lot harder than I thought it’d be.”

He met Sam’s gaze again, eyes big and imploring, reminding Sam just how young Jack really still was.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” He said, voice borderline miserable, eyes almost near tears, “I would have saved Dean, I really would, but I…I couldn’t start showing favouritism, bringing people back from the dead, even my…” He faltered at the end of the sentence, swallowing deeply, and did not finish it. But Sam didn’t need him to. He knew what word would complete it, even if Jack was too self-conscious to say it aloud.

_Even my parent._

Sam gently clapped Jack on the shoulder, jolting the young man into looking back up at him with wide eyes, peering through his eyelashes.

“It’s okay, Jack,” He soothed, keeping his voice as soft as possible. God or not, this was still his kid, after all, “I never blamed you. Not once. And I know Dean wouldn’t either.”

It was stated as a fact, and Sam knew it was one. Dean had loved Jack, in the end, in his own way. Neither of them knew the first thing about being a parent – it wasn’t like they had very great references to go off of, after all. But Sam knew his brother, and he knew to ignore Dean’s seemingly gruff exterior toward Jack; he was Dean’s son as much as any of them.

Jack sent him a small, tired smile, eyes sparkling with gratitude even as his hands found refuge stuffed safely in his pockets. He ducked his head once again, before continuing.

“I couldn’t save Dean, but you should know, I…I brought Cas back,” He admitted. He looked up at Sam, quickly justifying, guilt clear on his face.

“B-But that wasn’t me trying to be biased,” He hastened, “I just needed help, sorting out heaven, and I thought who better? Besides…” A tiny glint of mischief gleamed in his eyes now, an impish look that Sam knew in an instant he had learned from Cas himself blossoming, “I thought Dean would appreciate it, too.”

A new warmth bloomed in Sam’s heart, and he felt a sudden weight lifted from his chest that he hadn’t even entirely realised was there.

“So…they’re together?” He asked, hopeful, and Jack responding smile was almost shyly.

“They are,” He confirmed simply, although he did not elaborate on whether he meant they were only together physically, as in sharing the same space, or together in a romantic sense. Whichever it was, it eased a lot of Sam’s stress from the past few weeks. Dean would be fine, be happy, up in heaven with Castiel. They deserved that much, after a lifetime of being torn apart over and over again.

But, without warning, a darkness crossed Jack’s face, reminding Sam that, adorable tendencies aside, Jack was still one of the most powerful people in all of creation.

“Not that it will matter, much longer,” Jack conceded, voice subdued and bitter. It was such a drastic mood change that Sam floundered for a moment, blinking, before realigning himself to this new twist.

“What…what do you mean?” He asked somewhat hesitantly. Jack sighed, shaking his head slowly.

“It’s…hard to explain,” The boy admitted, “But I’ll try.”

He exhaled slowly, running a hand warily through his hair in a way that practically mirrored Dean.

“To put it bluntly…it won’t matter because that version of events, our version…it won’t exist anymore,” He said carefully, and Sam’s blood turned to ice.

He remembered the series of events where Balthazar had, using time travel, prevented the titanic from sinking, altering the entire course of the future in unprecedented ways. Their version of reality had ceased to exist, as had their memories of it, until everything had been returned to normality. And it was then that he realised, with a sinking feeling in his gut (not unlike the titanic), just what the consequences would be if he tried to change the events of the future. He could risk robbing Dean and Cas of this happily ever after, risk ruining the future completely, worse than it already was.

Any hope that had been running through Sam’s system rapidly turned into resignation, and he heaved a sigh, knowing what he had to do.

“Right…If I changed anything, it would change the future that’s already happened, too,” He said, sighing, “You should just bring me back then, Jack.”

There was a long pause as Jack remained uncharacteristically quiet. Sam frowned as he found the younger boy unable to quite meet his eye.

“Jack?” He prompted, and the kid flinched slightly, eyes flicking up before looking away. He looked frightened, beneath the surface, Sam realised.

“Sam…I…I’m sorry, but…I can’t,” He confessed, voice a shameful near whisper. Sam blinked once. And then again.

“You can’t? What do you mean you can’t? You’re _God._ ”

Jack flinched again, looking at his feet.

“Well…I swore a non-interference policy, remember? Visiting you like this, it’s bad enough, but actually interacting with you in the real world…” He faltered out. Swallowed. Took a breath.

“But that’s not the only reason,” He admitted, “Even if I hadn’t done that, I…wouldn’t be able to bring you back.”

“What do you mean?” Sam repeated, trying to fight back the instinctual irritation that this conversation was provoking. Getting angry at Jack would not solve anything. It seemed that he could hear the hint of anger in his voice nonetheless, as he shrank down slightly, looking for all the world like the young boy who had once lived in the bunker with them and not at all like the deity he now was.

“It…well…”

He swallowed again, composed himself.

“It’s Chuck,” He finally said. Sam stared at him blankly, the words not fully registering at first, and even when they did, he still couldn’t fully comprehend them.

“Chuck,” He echoed, “Jack, that’s not possible. He’s human now, he’s mortal. Utterly powerless. He couldn’t do this to me.”

Jack nodded shamefully.

“He couldn’t _now_ ,” He agreed, “But, he…well, he was God, too, remember. He could foresee things…to an extent. So, I think…I think when it became clear we were going to beat him, he…created a back up option, so to speak.”

Sam stared at Jack, dread churning in his stomach, silently urging him to continue speaking. Looking up at Sam with the barest hint of anxiety, he did so.

“He set things up so that, in the weeks following his defeat, you would eventually be sent back in time, using enough power that I…I can’t reverse it. I think he was banking on two things – first, the fact that he wouldn’t be around to bring you back. And second, the fact that you wouldn’t be able to resist changing things if you had to live through them a second time.”

Sam swallowed, hating how predictable he was to the accursed ex-God. But then, who could blame him? Wouldn’t anyone do the same, if given the chance? If you dropped someone back a decade into their past and told them “Okay, you can either relive all of your suffering completely a second time, even though the first time literally killed you a few times, OR, you can try and change things for the better for you and for your loved ones.” Would anyone be able to resist that urge, really?

“Okay, but…even if I did change things, did he really think I wouldn’t try and bring him down a second time? Because I would.”

It was one of few things Sam knew with certainty. The sky was blue, what goes up must come down, Dean was his brother, Chuck Shirley must always, always be brought down for the sake of the world. Jack shot him a brief smile, completely void of any happiness.

“I’m sure he did know that, but that isn’t the problem, Sam. The problem is whether you could…without me.”

“Without you? What’re you…”

But Sam trailed off, eyes widening as he realised all of a sudden.

Oh no.

A very specific series of events had to occur in a very exact way to allow Jack to exist. A lot of failures had to take place, ones that Sam would actively be trying to prevent this time around. He hadn’t exactly been planning on allowing Lucifer to roam free a second time around, after all, but he hadn’t quite realised the implications in that Jack would quite literally _not exist._

And this thought stole the very breath from Sam’s lungs briefly.

Jack…he was so important to everyone in the bunker. He was their sunshine on the rainy day that was their lives, their reason to smile, their reason to keep caring for other people. He gave them a sense of responsibility, and he made them all better people. Without him, Castiel would never grow to become a wonderful, loving father, becoming ever more human in these oh so natural nurturing emotions. Jack had brought them all closer, made them all a family in a way that they…well, they already had been. But Jack had just brought them seamlessly together. He just fit. He had taken all the preconceptions about him – that he would be evil, be Lucifer’s perfect spawn, and had broken, bent and shattered them into a million pieces by being the exact opposite. Imagining life without Jack…

He couldn’t. He loved the hell out of that kid. He would die for him, he would kill for him, a million times over, no hesitation.

…But there were so many others he loved, too.

People that he right now had a chance to save.

Jack seemed to see his dilemma, and smiled weakly at him. Now, his difficulty summoning happiness made complete sense. He had known this whole time, he must have done, that there was a very high chance that he was about to be wiped from existence completely. His every action, his presence, all gone from the world.

As if they had never been there in the first place.

“It’s okay, Sam,” He attempted to comfort, “If…if it’s for the best for the world, for my family, then…I don’t mind being the price paid.”

“No,” Sam said automatically, the beginnings of panic gnawing at him subconsciously, “No, this is wrong. You saved the whole damn world, Jack! You- you don’t deserve this! No!”

Jack’s smile was a little more real now, and he turned to face outwards. All of a sudden, Sam’s dream shifted, from the vague blankness of the previous background, to a much more familiar one. One that made his heart ache.

The sound hit his ears first. The loud chatter of four people all trying to talk over one another, all laughing in the process. He heard his own voice briefly, before he seemed to give up even trying. He heard Jack, too, try and talk before he dissolved into laughter as he watched the final two voices of Dean and Castiel bicker passionately like the old married couple everyone knew they were.

He only half remembered this particular night, because this was a fairly common occurrence in the bunker. He could see it now, blinking to adjust himself to his new surroundings.

The four of them sat around the table, nursing beers, although Castiel kept frowning over at the one in front of Jack as if he wanted to snatch it away from his son. Dean was reclined in his seat, the very definition of relaxed, jacket thrown over the back of his chair and legs tossed up to prop on Cas’ lap. The angel, unsurprisingly, offered no protests, well resigned by now to being a glorified footstool to Dean Winchester when the occasion called for it. Jack had his head propped up on one hand, eyes soft, at peace, simply looking content to be around those he loved. And Sam was in a similar position across the table from him, face amused and fondness lurking behind his eyes even as he tried not to let it show.

It was a warm scene. It was a happy scene.

It was a scene that Sam longed, more than anything, to get back. And he knew that he couldn’t.

“You were my family,” Jack spoke up, unexpectedly, voice holding the barest ghost of wistfulness, “All of you. You taught me the meaning of family, of having a home, of how to care for people and get care in return. I loved all of you, with everything I am.”

Sam suddenly felt a slight lump in the back of his throat which he firmly attempted to swallow down.

(It did not work).

“We loved you too, Jack. Still do.”

And always will.

“I wanted things to stay like that forever,” Jack continued, “I wanted to keep learning from you, and keep discovering what it means to be human. But…our family doesn’t get forever. We never have.”

Sam laughed, humourless.

“We’re the unluckiest family in the world, I sometimes think,” He agreed. Jack tilted his head at him, small smile playing about his lips.

“In a lot of ways,” He conceded, “But…in a lot of ways, we weren’t. We were lucky to have each other, while we did. Lucky to love each other so much. I think our bond was pretty unique, I’m sure you agree.

“I just feel lucky to have known you. All of you. Including- No, _especially_ you, Sam. When I was born, and I had nobody, and my father was gone, and Dean hated me…”

His smile widened as he looked up at Sam, eyes nostalgic.

“You were the one who never gave up on me. Who helped me adjust, who protected me from Dean and from the world until Castiel came back. And even after that.”

He took a step closer to Sam. In the background, the four of them in the memory continued on in their scene of domestic bliss.

“I can’t ever thank you enough for it, Sam,” He said earnestly, “But…I can ask you to do something for me.”

He took Sam’s arm in an imploring grip, tugging his sleeve in a way that also tugged on Sam’s heartstrings with its familiarity and Sam felt as if he were drowning.

Please, no.

“I can ask you to let me go,” Jack said softly, eyes boring into Sam’s, “I can ask you to do what you think is right, and save everyone else, and save the world again, without worrying about me. About whether I’ll come into existence from what you do…or not.”

He swallowed at the thought, and Sam could tell despite his confident, selfless front that he was genuinely scared of this possibility. And yet he would still do it.

He’d always known Jack was the best of them.

“I might be born…and I might not. But you…you need to focus on other things. I’m not a priority, Sam. Not compared to everything you stand to gain.”

“You are to me,” Sam blurted, “Jack, this…this is insane! I can’t do this. Jack, you…you’re…You’re our _kid,_ Jack. I can’t let this happen.”

He gripped Jack, trying to make him understand.

“Jack, we love you. _I_ love you. If I did this, If I…I couldn’t live with myself. Cas would never forgive me.”

Jack blinked up at him, before sighing heavily, looking for all the world like a kid with the world on his shoulders. He kind of was, Sam supposed.

And for the second time, Sam was tugged into a hug by his surrogate son. He could feel a faint tremor in the embrace, and he honestly wasn’t sure whether he or Jack was the source of it. He curled the fingers of one hand into the material of Jack’s brown coat, the other hand coming up to cradle his head, carding through Jack’s soft brown locks. Whether this action was more a comfort to himself, or to Jack, he also didn’t know. But the young boy didn’t tell him to stop, tightening his grip marginally, face pressed into Sam’s shoulder like a little boy trying to hide from the harshness of the world.

“I love you, too,” He replied softly, voice muffled against Sam’s shoulder and yet still audibly quaking slightly, “And I know that Castiel won’t hold it against you. It isn’t your fault, Sam. It’s Chuck’s.”

“I’m going to fix this, Jack,” He vowed, closing his eyes to combat the sudden wetness he could feel there, “I’ll make sure you exist. I promise.”

It was a dangerous promise to make, and they both knew it. But Jack simply acquiesced with a quiet, subdued, “Okay.”

Sam didn’t want to let go.

He didn’t want to lose the feeling of his kid in his arms, not knowing whether it would be the last time that it ever happened. He tried to memorise the feeling while he still could, mind running at a million miles an hour, replaying each and every moment he had spent with Jack over the years. His laughter, his tears, his anger. His weight against Sam’s shoulder as he slumped against it whilst watching a movie. His chirpy, excited tone whenever he discovered a new fascination. His hand, tugging Sam off in whatever direction he needed him to go, and Sam would always oblige, humouring the boy. Humouring his kid.

He didn’t want to let go. But he had to at some point.

It was Jack who ended the hug this time, drawing away and taking a few steps back. He blinked deeply, eyes suspiciously red, before he shot an attempt at a smile at Sam.

“I should let you go. I think you’ve freaked Uncle Gabriel out enough,” He joked half heartedly. Sam nearly smiled, even as he fought back tears of his own.

He didn’t know what to say in this situation.

So he simply settled for what felt like the safest option.

“See you around, Jack.”

Jack’s responding smile hurt more than any wound ever had.

“See you around, Sam.”

He paused, suddenly, as if remembering something.

“Oh, and, when you wake up…well. I’ll let you be surprised.”

Sam frowned.

“Surprised…? What’re you-“

Jack put a hand over his mouth, and grinned at him.

“You’ll see,” He promised. His hand moved to Sam’s forehead, two fingers resting against it, as if going to wake him. He met Sam’s eyes one last time – maybe the final time.

“Goodbye, Sam,” He uttered softly. A tear trickled down his cheek, just as Sam felt one escape his own eye.

And then, with a gasp, he jolted awake.

Gabriel cursed loudly, scrambling back in the booth in surprise, hand over his heart.

“Jesus, Sammy! Give a guy a little warning, would ya?!”

But Sam wasn’t listening to him. Nor was he focused on the faintest hint of concern lurking in Gabriel’s voice.

He was, however, focused on the new person who was sitting next to Gabriel opposite him. One who certainly had not been there before. One who was all too familiar to Sam. One with startlingly blue eyes that bored into Sam, with recognition shining in them that he _should not have had right now,_ as the owner of them smiled tiredly at him _._

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel greeted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay! December-January was a super busy season for me, I was pretty much working full time hours while still trying to sit my exams and get through uni.   
> Plus you know, I'm still in lockdown which is not much fun!   
> But here's the second chapter, longer as promised. I know! I love Jack! But I just can't see Sam allowing events to play out in the exact same way with Lucifer, creating Jack. That doesn't mean he doesn't have a CHANCE of survival; it just doesn't seem very high at the moment. Jack is still my sweet baby boy and I adore him! And we know who is responsible for Sam's being sent back now; dang it, Chuck.   
> Thank you for all your kind reviews and bookmarks last chapter, keep them up please to motivate me! Much love, stay safe, and see you next time!


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